Deadly Overtures: A Music Lover's Mystery (12 page)

How much more was something I had no desire to find out from personal experience, but the question played over and over again in my head like a broken record. Ethan currently occupied the top spot on my list of suspects, but Jeb’s name was also on that list, and I now felt certain that he was fully capable of committing murder.

Chapter Thirteen

I
T WASN’T UNTIL
I was halfway down the stairs that I realized I’d forgotten to stop by Hans’s office. I continued down to the first floor anyway, deciding to speak with Hans another time. My nerves were too frazzled to go anywhere near the judges’ lounge, which I’d have to pass to reach the maestro’s office. On top of that, my thoughts were too scattered to hold a coherent conversation. If Hans knew anything new about the police investigation, I could find out about that later. For the moment, I needed time to recover from my unsettling confrontation with Jeb, to calm down enough so I could focus on the concert.

I managed to avoid any conversations beyond brief exchanges of greetings when I returned to the musicians’ lounge. Not wanting to linger, I retrieved my instrument and folder of music and made my way to the stage. Once I was seated in my usual spot, my shoulders relaxed and the whirlwind of thoughts in my head lost some of its vigor. I took comfort in the familiar surroundings, the stage like a second home to me.

With every passing minute more of my fellow musicians joined me on the stage, and their presence comforted me further. I knew I was safe here among my colleagues, safe from Jeb and Ethan and anyone else who might have a dangerous dark side. I hoped Dongmei was as safe as I was, but I hadn’t seen her in the lounge when I fetched my violin from my locker. Ethan hadn’t been in the lounge either, and when I realized that, a flash of panic set my heart beating at a wild tempo once again. But then Olivia appeared in the wings with both Ethan and Dongmei at her side, Sasha hovering behind her as usual.

Relief edged out my panic and I drew in a deep breath, letting it out slowly as I rid myself of more of my remaining anxiety.

“What’s wrong?” Mikayla asked as she sat down in the seat next to me.

“Nothing.” I tried my best to smile as I set out the sheet music for Ethan’s symphony.

When I glanced Mikayla’s way, she was still watching me, one eyebrow raised skeptically.

I set my bow on the music stand’s ledge, realizing I’d need to provide her with some sort of explanation. “I guess I’m a bit on edge. It’s hard to relax when I suspect people around me of murder.”

“Who do you suspect, exactly?” she asked, her skepticism morphing into curiosity.

“Ethan and Jeb, for starters,” I said quietly so no one else around us could hear.

Both of Mikayla’s eyebrows shot up this time. “Ethan I can see, since Pavlina was his competition and they obviously didn’t like each other, but Jeb Hartson?”

“It’s a bit of a long story.”

She waited expectantly, but almost the entire orchestra was now present on the stage and we were only moments from the start of the concert.

“Later,” I whispered as I picked up my bow.

She had no choice but to agree as a hush fell over the stage.

Over the next couple of hours, the last remnants of my anxiety trickled away. I became completely absorbed in the finalists’ compositions, in the way the music from all the various instruments wove together to create something greater, something beautiful. Dongmei’s piece in particular drew me into its depths and caught me in its magic.

The audience must have enjoyed the concert as much as I did. When it was over, they stood and applauded enthusiastically. I held my breath for a tense moment before Ethan and Dongmei were to appear on stage, but they emerged from the wings together a second later, much to my relief. The last thing we needed was to lose another finalist. Although I could tell that Dongmei was a bit nervous about being on stage in front of such a large audience, she still seemed to enjoy the moment, beaming as the audience once again applauded for her and Ethan.

Once we’d all left the stage and had returned to the musicians’ lounge, I gave Dongmei a big hug.

“I hope you win,” I whispered so only she would hear.

She smiled at me. “Thank you, Midori. It’s been nice having you here. I’m less anxious when there’s a friendly face nearby.”

I gave her another hug and she headed off to meet her family in the theater’s lobby. After a few minutes spent chatting with my colleagues, I pulled on my coat and gloves and left the theater. Out in the parking lot, JT was loading the last of the recording equipment—all accounted for this time—into his truck. I said a quick goodbye to him and set off for home.

During the drive my thoughts slowly shifted from the successful concert to the mystery of Pavlina’s murder. More than ever I believed that Ethan’s character left plenty to be desired and that he was fully capable of devious behavior, including murder. Even so, I couldn’t forget the frightening glimpse I’d caught of Jeb’s dark side when he’d confronted me in the judges’ lounge. The mere memory caused a shudder to run through my body, and my grip tightened on the steering wheel. His fierce reaction to finding me with his phone could have stemmed from nothing more than the fact that he was desperate to keep his relationship with Pavlina a secret. But knowing that a much darker part of his personality lurked beneath his phony accent and self-assured attitude only made the phone conversation I’d overheard seem more sinister.

He’d said that something was all taken care of and that no one suspected a thing. Of course, if he’d referred to killing Pavlina, that meant someone else knew he’d done the terrible deed. Who would he share that information with? Another lover? One who’d known about Pavlina and wanted her permanently out of the picture?

The photos on Jeb’s phone hadn’t indicated that there was another woman in his life, but perhaps I simply hadn’t scrolled back far enough. I silently cursed the fact that I hadn’t had a chance to delve into his text messages. They could have held valuable clues.

Stopping at a red light, I gave my head a shake. Jeb and Ethan both seemed so sinister and guilty, but I still couldn’t prove that either of them had killed Pavlina. And I didn’t know enough to discount any of my other suspects. Olivia, Sasha, Cameron, and Elena’s cousin Igor all needed more investigating.

That reminded me of the fact that I hadn’t yet achieved what Hans had hoped I would. As long as Igor was still a suspect, and as long as nothing came to light to prove that Elena wasn’t in cahoots with him, the PGP was at risk of suffering from bad publicity and perhaps even the loss—temporarily or permanently—of our concertmaster.

As I parked my car in the lot beneath my apartment building, I decided to come up with a plan in the morning, a plan that would help me make more sense of all the clues I’d gathered, that would allow me to uncover more information so I could finally put some pieces of the puzzle together and get at least a glimpse of the picture that would emerge.

W
HILE
I
WOULD
have liked to laze around in bed the next morning, a dozen different thoughts chimed in my head as soon as I was awake, making relaxation impossible. With a sigh, I threw back the covers and hurried through my chilly apartment to the shower. While I shampooed my hair, I decided I’d check in with JT. The day before we’d only talked about Cameron and his potential involvement in the crimes, and I still wanted to share my thoughts on the other suspects with my friend. Hopefully he wouldn’t be too busy for me to hang out with him, but I’d find out soon enough.

As I rinsed the shampoo out of my hair, I hummed a few bars of music. It was only as I shut off the water and wrapped myself in a towel that I realized I was humming the melody of JT’s latest composition. I couldn’t wait to hear him play the song on the piano again, and I didn’t doubt that it would take my breath away just as it had the first time I’d heard it. I loved all of JT’s music, but that song really was the most amazing one I’d ever heard him play.

Whenever I thought of JT’s successes I practically beamed with pride. He was such a talented musician and composer, and I was so happy that he was doing well in his career.
Absolute Zero
, the science fiction television show he composed music for, had been on the air for over two months now, and the ratings so far had been strong. If the show got renewed for a second season, that would be great for JT. As the show gained more popularity, more of its fans would become aware of JT’s music and remember his name. That could only bode well for his future.

As soon as I was dressed, I sent him a quick text message to see if I could hang out at his place that morning. While I waited for a reply, I dried my hair and put on some makeup. I was in the midst of applying eye shadow when my thoughts took a familiar turn. Several weeks ago I’d realized I was in love with my best friend, and had been for a while. Since then I’d fought a near-constant battle with my feelings. As much as I wanted to keep my love for him a secret in order to protect our friendship, that had become more and more difficult as the weeks passed.

At times I thought I would burst from the intensity of my emotions, and more than once I’d come close to telling him how I felt. But each time fear silenced my voice. In the beginning I’d convinced myself that keeping quiet was for the best, but now I wasn’t quite so sure. Despite my uncertainty, I continued to hide behind my fear. How long I could keep doing that, I didn’t know, but as I finished applying my makeup, I forced myself to focus on something else.

I mulled over my list of murder suspects as I ate a quick breakfast, but my thoughts seemed to go around in circles and I didn’t make any progress. No brilliant insights popped into my head while I brushed my teeth either. I did, however, receive a reply to the text message I’d sent JT, and that helped to temper my burgeoning frustration.

Of course you can come over
, his message read.
The guys and I have one last band practice this afternoon, but I’m free this morning
.

I’m on my way
, I wrote back.
See you soon
.

Once I’d pulled on my coat, hat, and gloves, I grabbed my purse and was on my way. In less than ten minutes I’d arrived at JT’s place. Locking up my car, I hurried through the chilly, gray morning and up to the front porch. The warmth of the house enveloped me as soon as I stepped into the foyer, and I gladly shut the door against the cold outside air. Finnegan had heard my entry and came barreling down the hall toward me. Smiling, I crouched down and gave him a big hug.

“Morning, Finnie boy. Did you miss me?”

He answered by giving me a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” I said as I stood up.

JT came down the hallway toward me. “We always miss you when you’re not here.”

My heart did a giddy, flip-flopping dance at JT’s words. He helped me out of my coat and then tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. His hand lingered at the side of my face and his eyes met mine. My heart flip-flopped again. I couldn’t breathe. His fingers brushed against my cheek, but then he dropped his hand, breaking the spell.

“Come on,” he said as he hung my coat in the foyer closet. “You look like you could use a hot drink and I just brewed some fresh coffee.”

He headed for the kitchen, Finnegan trotting after him, but I remained frozen to the spot. My heart had settled back into its normal rhythm, but I was distracted by a hum of electric energy running through me. Drawing in a sharp breath, I shook myself out of my daze.

Had I imagine what had passed between us? Was I seeing what I wanted to see rather than what was really there?

I gave myself another mental shake as I kicked off my boots. I didn’t know the answer to my questions and I wasn’t entirely sure that I wanted to.

Doing my best to push all thoughts of what had happened—or hadn’t happened—out of my mind, I followed my best friend and his dog to the kitchen. JT had already poured hot coffee into mugs and he handed one to me, nudging the sugar bowl across the granite countertop toward me.

“Thanks,” I said, finally getting my tongue to work.

I added sugar to my coffee and followed it up with some milk from the fridge, keeping my eyes on my drink as I stirred it.

“The concert seemed to go well last night,” JT said once he’d taken a sip of his own coffee.

“It did,” I agreed.

“Especially since there weren’t any more dead bodies,” he added.

“You can say that again.”

I wandered toward the large kitchen window, gazing out into the backyard where everything was encrusted with sparkling white frost. Although JT had given me the perfect opening to talk about everyone I suspected of killing Pavlina, my current thoughts were out of tune with my intended focus. As much as I tried to shake it off, the look we’d shared minutes earlier still had me distracted. It was like I was standing at the edge of a cliff, trying to decide if I should throw caution to the wind and leap into the unknown. A sense of reckless courage washed over me and I gripped my coffee mug with both hands, ready to turn around and confess to JT how I felt about him.

“What’s on your mind?”

At the sound of his voice I turned around as planned, but I couldn’t coax out the words I needed for my confession. I took a sip of coffee to buy myself some time. It nearly burned my tongue, and that small shock was enough to jolt me back to my senses.

I couldn’t tell him. Not yet. It wasn’t the right time.

It will never be the right time
, a voice said in my head.
That’s just an excuse
.

That was true, but I chose to ignore the voice anyway.

“Pavlina’s murder,” I said in response to JT’s question. It wasn’t all that far from the truth.

“The police haven’t arrested anyone yet?”

“I don’t think so.” I left the window to lean against the counter. “I’m pretty sure I would have heard about it if they had.”

“Aside from Cameron, who do you suspect?”

With my mug halfway to my mouth, I paused. “You really want to know?”

“Sure. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because you usually want me to leave these things to the police.”

“That would be best, but I know by now that you’re as likely to do that as I am to win the lotto.”

“You never buy lotto tickets,” I pointed out.